I Don't Want Him Here Anymore Than You Do (I Want Him To Myself)
by Pen99
Summary: "So," John interrupted. "Do you stare down all your lab partners?" A thousand snarky phrases streamed though his mind, but Sherlock decided to go with the most honest. "No." Sherlock paused. "Just the ones that interest me." (Potter!lock/Johnlock)
1. That Git, Sherlock Holmes

Notes:

This is a WIP that has been on my PC for a couple months, but I haven't gotten around to publishing. The narrative jumps around a bit. It's going to start with them meeting, but transition from dislike and curiosity to friendship rather quickly. It's not going to be an epic story or anything, just a few K. I hope you enjoy! -Pen99

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"That git." Mikes Stamford's eyes glazed over. "That snobbish, insufferable, smart-ass."

He reached out his arms and Sarah Sawyer slumped forward, sobbing on his shoulder. Mike shot John a deviant smile and began stroking Sarah's silky brown hair. John rolled his eyes, blatantly unimpressed. Leave it to Mike to use vulnerably as a way to get into her pants.

John cleared his throat and reached for Sarah's hand. Mike scowled at him, but John did not let go. He was interested in Sarah too, but he knew better than to seduce her when she was distraught.

"So what exactly," John asked. "Did this…git….do again?"

Sarah's cheeks flushed.

"Last week professor Sprout assigned partners for mandrakes." She hiccupped. "That boy, Sherlock Holmes, didn't have a partner. I've heard what everybody says about him, but I felt bad you know? I thought he was a poor bloke in need of a friend."

She waited for validation of her kindness, and Mike did not disappoint.

"Of course." He oozed. "You've got that kind of heart."

Sarah let go of John's hand and wrapped her arms around Mike's neck.

"You're too sweet." Sarah cried, glancing back at John. "Both of you."

"So, he didn't want to work with you?" John guessed.

Sarah shook her head.

"Oh no, he did. Best in the class professor Sprout said. We were done potting all of them before the rest of the class had finished their first." Sarah flushed. "He's a weird bloke, that Sherlock Holmes. Didn't say much, but he wasn't like everyone said…not during the lesson anyway."

Sarah broke out in another wave of sobs, John wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

"But he's a bastard." She muttered. "I lingered after herbology , hoping to strike a conversation. I told him about the hogsmeade trip coming up, asked him if he fancied going with me."

"Did you, now?" Mike grumbled, cheeks reddening with jealousy. "I mean, did he?"

"He called me... mundane." Sarah whimpered. "Right to my face. He said he didn't fancy spending time with someone so simple. That I'd have a better chance chasing someone interested in getting in my skirt. He told me that all I wanted was to feel pretty."

"How awful." John commented. "Doesn't seem like a nice bloke, does he?"

"No, John." Sarah huffed. "Obviously not."

Mike shot John a murderous glare.

"He's an arse." Mike cooed. "You're gorgeous, and fun, and way better than he'll ever be. You're much more popular than Sherlock Holmes. People like you. You sexy, and—"

"A good person." John cut in.

Sarah gave John a smile of pity before making her way to the girl's dormitories.

"Thank you boys so much." She called. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

When Sarah had climbed the stairs and was out of sight, Mike slapped his arm.

"Smooth." He mocked. "_A good person_, what the hell was that."

John did his best interpretation of Mike.

"Oh you're a pretty girl." He cooed. "A sexy girl. Come here and I'll have you right now. We'll show Sherlock Holmes what he's missing."

Mike shrugged.

"Whatever works, right?"

John winkled his nose.

"You're a real pervert, you know that?" John asked.

"A real pervert that is going to shag Sarah Sawyer before the end of the month."

"Whatever mate," John sighed. "Just be careful. Sarah's our friend. I don't want things to get out of hand."

"Don't worry Three House Watson." Mike mocked. "You'll get the girl eventually. Maybe after I'm done."

John balled his fists in rage. He hated when Mike talked about his friends as if they were objects. He hated it even more when he used his stupid pet name. Contrary to popular belief, John had not slept with three girls from three separate houses in one night. He hadn't even slept with more than two girls in his entire life. He'd drunkenly snogged a hufflepuff girl after the final quidditch match last year, and somehow a rumor escalated from there.

John took a hard shot at Mike's arm and leapt out of his chair.

"You're disgusting." John called over his shoulder.

Before he reached the door to the boy's dorms, Mike called after him.

"Oh go sulk John, but remember, I know where you sleep."

John was still angry, but he couldn't help but grin. His friend was a complete bastard, but at least he was entertaining. That was more than he could say for Sarah Sawyer.


	2. Like House-Elves

John climbed to the top of a marble platform, overlooking a sea of first years. Gregory Lestrade followed suit, accepting John's hand as he pushed upward.

"We were never this small, were we?" John asked Greg absentmindedly. "They look like house-elves."

Lestrade subdued a laugh.

"Have you looked at yourself mate? You're not exactly a giant."

"Just give me two years," John grumbled. "You've got an advantage, being in seventh year. I'm sixteen, there's still time."

"Sure Watson, keep telling yourself that. Though I have to say, you're the nimblest beater Gryffindor has ever seen."

John's eyes lit up. He had hoped for a moment to talk to Greg alone, but one hadn't yet presented itself. With the captain of last year's team graduated, Lestrade was next in line. The two of them were friends, and John didn't want to exploit that, but a nagging part of him needed to be sure.

"So I'm in this season then." John asked hopefully. "I could get used to you being captain."

John gave Lestrade a wide grin, and the older boy playfully pushed away his face.

"Stuff it Watson." He sighed. "I'm not saying that you'll defiantly have a spot on the team."

"But you're not not saying that, are you?"

"You're bloody brilliant with that bat in your hands." Lestrade paused for a moment. "That's all I'm saying."

John was satisfied with that answer. He clapped Lestrade on the back and made his way back into the crowd. With a quick glance at his timetables, John made his way to the dungeons. Potions with the Slytherins was not his favorite period, but his conversation with Lestrade had cheered him up significantly.


	3. No matter the techinque

As usual, the youngest Holmes boy's cold eyes were plastered to the back of the sandy Gryffindor's head. Sherlock sat in the dim light of the dungeon, listening to the potions master drone on about antidotes, while the rest of the class scratched their quills in unison. Sherlock had demanded to be placed in a more advanced potions, but all the department had managed was to bump him up a year. He was an excellent chemist and brilliant when it came to potion brewing. Sherlock Holmes did not doubt that he was more familiar with the subject than the professor.

He sniggered. Potions master, how ironic.

Although Sherlock resented his required presence, he made use of his time. Sherlock used the drawl hour to analyze and deduce, to keep his skills sharp. He had started with the obvious of course; Sally Donovan and Mike Stamford were almost too easy. Sally was overly aggressive, especially for a Gryffindor. She was brave, but spiteful, probably something to do with her father. No, he decided. Definitely indignant of her mother. If possible, Mike was easier. Sex crazed and insecure, Sherlock decided. He liked to be the most experienced in the room, and was always the one to get the last word.

His deductions continued for a week before Sherlock had gotten stuck.

He was almost ready to brush over John Watson. A people pleaser, defiantly. A nurturer for sure. But there was something else. Something Sherlock could not quite place.

And so the pattern began. Sherlock would arrive in potions and spend the hour burning holes in the back of the Watson boy's neck. Surely the fifth year had acknowledged Sherlock's attention, but he did not address it. This left Sherlock more stuck than before. From what he deduced, John Watson did not shy away from his problems.

He approached things straight on, and yet, another day passed without a word.

Sherlock was getting antsy. He wanted to know why he could not properly deduce John Watson. Could Sherlock be over analyzing the situation? This boy was no doubt as mundane as the others. Why did he deserve the special interest of Sherlock Holmes?

The potions master announced that the class would have time for the practical part of the lesson. They were to pair up and create a wiggenweld potion, an antidote for magically induced sleep. Sherlock let out a bored yawn; he had created this exact potion hundreds of times.

Why not make it interesting, Sherlock wondered. No matter the technique, the potion would be the same, but the partner however… He shot up quickly and made his way over to John Watson's desk.

"Move." He instructed Mike. "Now."

The heavy boy shot him a look of pure loathing. There was a hint of jealousy in his eyes. If Sherlock had to guess, and nothing was a guess with Sherlock Holmes, either he or someone he was attracted to fancied Sherlock's looks. Sherlock Holmes was indeed very attractive, few could deny. His beauty was heavily ignored due to his audacious personality. Not that this bothered him, Sherlock Holmes did not engage in something as trivial as dating.

"Did you not hear correctly?" Sherlock asked rudely. "I said move."

"And if you would have been listening," Mike spat "instead of retreating into that indignant head of yours, you would have heard me say no."

Mike stood up, looking ready to knock in Sherlock's teeth. Sherlock grinned internally; he would have liked to see the boy try.

"It's alright, Mike." John whispered, avoiding Sherlock's stare. "Partner with Donovan, it isn't worth it."

Isn't worth it, Sherlock replayed cautiously. Did this small boy dismiss Sherlock Holmes as not worth it.

Mike gave Sherlock another murderous glare, and then clambered to the other side of the room. Sherlock took his place and turned to face the small Gryffindor. This was the closest Sherlock had ever been to him. Deductions filled the empty space.

Sherlock made an inward sigh. Finally, some answers.

"So," John brashly interrupted. "Do you stare down all your lab partners?"

It took a moment for Sherlock to formulate a reply. A thousand snarky phrases streamed though his mind, but Sherlock decided to go with the most honest.

"No." Sherlock paused. "Just the ones that interest me."


End file.
